“When I married her, I was too sick to care. I don’t remember much of the wedding, other than being in excruciating pain, nearly blind with a headache. After… not sure when, it was probably at what mother had gotten up for a reception, I vomited. All over Dionaea, because they were making me dance. I passed out, and woke up about a day later.”
“Not an auspicious beginning.” Bella said.
“Dionaea was unhappy from the beginning, even without that public humiliation. I would not live at Elleria. It made me ill to be in it. We didn’t know then that any level of magic use poisoned me slowly, and when I’m there, something triggers me to shield. Always has, I suspect. One day maybe I’ll go spend enough time to find out what.”
“That’s why it was shut up.” Bella filled in a gap in her knowledge. I shrugged.
“That, and the family couldn’t afford to keep it open. Another bitter pill for Dionaea. She had a dowry, but it wasn’t enough to maintain that monstrous expense.”
“And you didn’t want to be Duke.”
I kissed my bride on the forehead. She was a smart cookie. “Not then, not now.”
“But why?” Bella started to sit up and I held on.
“Stay there… because I wanted you. And I thought I was dying. Seemed the decent thing to do, to take care of you and greedy me, have you too.”
Bella subsided. “So she wound up here, with you?”
“This house was built for us. Proceeds of one of my first jobs. She hated it. The only thing she got that she wanted was incorporating Ellie’s tree into it. Dionaea assumed that by having the tree in the house, Ellie would be bound to her.” I chuckled, bitter still after all these years. “Ellie was a servant of the House Eudicott, as wood elves everywhere were servants. But Dionaea forgot that servant doesn’t mean mindless drone.”
“Ellie stayed with you. Not because of the tree…”
“Not because of the tree. Because when Dion discovered that it was Ellie providing the mental shield spells for me, she almost killed her with a beating. Then she came for me, while I was sick from protecting my mind with magic, and I almost killed her.” I shrugged again, feeling a chill like a worm crawling up my spine. “She’s irrational, and she’s dropped out of sight for a century. Fae are patient, Bella-mine, and Dion is…”
“Mad. Oh, Lom…”She shifted around so she could hug me. “This is why you’re so cool with your mother.”
“Yes.”
“Is she still…?” Bella sounded concerned. I knew she liked Lucia.
“No, she’s mellowed. Still likes to be in charge, but after a century she knows better than to try and push me around.” I kissed her soft lips. “You’re the only one who gets to push me around.”
“Mmm-hhmmm…” she couldn’t make words, but I got the meaning of that approving noise. And a minute later she had the clearance to say, “I’m pushing us to bed, mister.”
Which I understood perfectly even if it didn’t make sense, and was perfectly willing to obey my queen. We both needed what she wanted. Death makes life that much sweeter.
* * *
Morning came far too early, after that late of a night. Ellie didn’t come in with the coffeepot as she often did, and not for the first time I wondered just how connected she was to the house, to know when entering our bedroom would be indiscreet. I decided, as I opened the door and found the tray on folding legs set up there, and the coffee smell hit me, that I didn’t want or need to know.
Bella whimpered a little when I pulled back the curtain and the light fell on her face. She rolled over and burrowed under a pillow, until all I could see was a heap of tousled, silky black hair. I poured a cup of coffee and sat at my desk. I was in no hurry to waken her.
Peaceful, but under the surface my mind was racing. I knew why Dionaea was acting now, to precipitate matters before the coronation. But why me? Especially since everyone Underhill had known until yesterday morning that I had no magic at all, not even the traces I’d had after the elfshot. I should have been out of the equation all together as far as she was concerned. I didn’t believe she was obsessed with me as a person. Not after a century of silence.
Bella. Margot’s body was to have been a message to Bella, not me.
I looked over at my wife’s slim body, barely a lump under the down comforter, still sleeping. I was contemplating joining her, when there was a pounding on the door. Bella sat bolt upright, her hair spilling over her bare breasts.
“Wha?” She started to ask, but I was already at the door. I looked over my shoulder.
“Stay there.”
She might have argued, but I was following Ash down the stairs at a dead run. Others, disturbed by the noise, were coming out of doors. Dean was right behind me, fully dressed already. Ash led me straight for the front door, which stood wide open. As we reached it, the cloud of sprites parted and revealed what laid on the ground.
“Oh, shit…”
This was not how I wanted to wake up. I knelt next to the wretched body. I knew who it was, even in this ruined state. The stench was truly horrible, but then, he’d never smelled much better while alive. Ghouls are alive, and some of them are decent folks, even if you can’t walk downwind of them. I pounded the ground with my fist.
“Dammit!”
The last time I’d seen him, in Seattle, he’d sold us weaponry. And he’d warned me bad things were coming. Looked like Georgio had met them before me. I got to my feet, feeling weary, old, and useless. Bella slipped under Dean’s arm at the door, why he was trying to keep her from seeing this I didn’t know, and looked down.
“Oh…” was all she said, one hand pressed to her mouth. That would be from the smell.
“I have to go. Now. Do you understand what this means?” I pointed downward, at the mangled remains of Georgio, the ghoulish arms dealer I’d made a deal with. He got me what I needed, when I needed it, Above where weapons are hard to come by, and he got to stay up there and live where his beloved neon lights glowed.
She nodded. “They are working Above and Underhill. This is bad, yes?”
“It means they are escalating. And if they draw attention to us, Above…”
She shivered. “You have to go. Do you want me to look – like I did for Margot?”
I didn’t. She didn’t need to be out here in the chilly damp morning wearing only a silk robe and her feet bare. Ellie pushed a pair of slippers into Bella’s hands just then. There was a small mob of people around us.
“Yes. Please… I’m sorry. But I need as much intel as you can give me.”
She dropped the slippers, more worried about the death than her feet, and held her hands out, not touching Georgio, just being close to him. I turned to look at the others. I kept my voice down, but time was of the essence now.
“I’m going. Dean, you know where, as does Alger. I won’t say it out loud, we don’t know who’s listening or watching. Ash, Daffyd, Ellie…” I pointed at Bella, kneeling at my feet and ignoring all of us.
They nodded in concert. The wood elves as a community had flocked to me after Dionaea’s actions toward Ellie had become known, and I had personally paid off indenturements for dozens of them out of my bounties. They had, in a century, transitioned from virtual slaves to respected craftsmen, and they credited me for it. I didn’t think it was me, I was just a catalyst. They’d have done it for themselves anyway. But their loyalty was unquestionable and I was leaving them to guard my most precious lives.
“This may keep happening again, them throwing bodies into our garden. Be on guard. Alger may come to see if he can indict and intercept a bubble, it takes a lot of skill or power. Bella can…”
“And Bella will.” She held up a hand and I gave her a steadying arm to get up from the cold ground. “The same, I think. It’s… veiled, somehow. Like maybe I’m seeing the inner reality and it’s wearing a glamour.”
I pulled her close. She murmured. “You will be here for the coronation. I’m not doing that alone.”
“Yes,
my queen.” I whispered for her ears alone.
Bella pushed me away gently. Her eyes were dry, and I knew she was holding it together for the benefit of everyone watching us. “Keep your powder dry.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
I turned and walked toward the gate, my hands empty, but I bubbled and traveled before I reached it. Everything I needed was with me, just not visible to the prying eye. If someone was watching, I wanted them to think I was blindly rushing off in a rage. I’d built that impression with my reaction to Margot, and I’d use it, now.
In the bubble, I pulled clothing from the rucksack I’d had stashed in nospace – useful word, that – and dressed. Even I was never so reckless as to run into battle in flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else. I’d only had those on because it was cool in our bedroom, and I was in the habit of slipping them on as soon as I got out of bed. The house slippers were replaced with wool socks and heavy boots. Then, I focused my mind and started the bubble toward my real destination, strapping on a holster before sliding a dirk into the top of my boot.
By the time I’d reached my destination, I was ready for anything. With a shield in place, I dropped the bubble and braced. The shotgun blast rocked me hard, even so.
Great White Hunter
I wheezed for air, and managed to hold up my hands so he could see them empty.
“Conrad, dammit…” I had to stop and suck wind.
“Hellifino who you are.” He boomed, from close range. I was bent over trying not to throw up, and could only see the big boots as he walked up and stopped, boots wide, in front of me. “Do I know you?”
“Lom.” I got out. “I’m Lom.”
“Dammit, boy!” I felt a big warm hand under my elbow, lifting me straight. The pain was starting to ease. I made a mental note to make the shield thicker, next time. I really didn’t need broken, or even cracked, ribs right now.
Conrad Ray looked just as he had the first time I’d met him, a century or so before. I’d been trying to identify a weird creature, and rumor had it the peculiar human was the man to see. Rumor, in a rare twist, was perfectly right. The Boer man had somehow stumbled through a gate to Underhill while out hunting, and he’d immediately cottoned on to being somewhere not-Earth. Rumor, which I trusted about as far as I could throw it, had that he’d traveled back and forth at first, until he feared that he’d age and die Above, having been told by Fae of the time differences.
So here he stayed. His monomania with animals of every description extended to the peoples of Underhill, which he’d learned quickly might look like animals to him, but weren’t. Somehow, I’d never learned how, he’d made allies of a Brownie sept, which was probably what made his independent existence Underhill possible.
He might know what it was that had killed Margot, then Georgio. It was a thin lead, and probably not worth getting shot in the chest over, but I’d had to try. It was a good thing I’d known to shield.
“So just how many people have you killed recently with that thing?” I asked, taking a slow, deep breath to test for broken ribs. No sharp twinges, just overall ache. Good.
He looked offended, his round face topped with a thin fringe of wispy gray hairs. “No one has been to visit me in so long…”
“Because they know you’ll shoot them!”
“Hey! My friends know to put up a shield. You did.” He pointed out, correctly.
I grunted. He was leading us toward his shack, hand still wrapped firmly around my arm. I let me think he could hold me, and went along with it. The interior was the same as it had been last time I’d been privileged to enjoy his hospitality. He hadn’t shot me back then, though. Conrad was getting more trigger happy and paranoid in his old age.
He pushed me down onto a bench at the long table, which was strewn with papers and books. With a grunt, I sat and watched him bustling in his kitchen area. The shack was pretty big, and although it looked a shambles outside, inside was all warm wood, gleaming white plaster, and rows of books covering two walls of the building. The Brownies were still with him, I could see, as only the table was a pool of chaos in the otherwise tidy dwelling.
In the corner, his curtained bed caught my eye with a slight movement, and I guessed where the house brownies were hiding. They wouldn’t come out while I was there. Conrad set a big mug of steaming coffee in front of me with a thud.
I sipped gratefully while he stacked some drawings off to the side where they weren’t in danger of a spill. He was a gifted watercolorist, and I could see he’d been doing a study of puça. The ghostly creatures were depicted nicely in their several forms, I could see a horse and a rabbit on top of the stack.
“You came for a reason, I’m thinking.” He sat heavily, and I looked more closely at him. He looked tired, and the lines around his eyes were much deeper than I recalled them.
“I need your help identifying, and maybe finding, a monster.” I pulled the folded sheet out of my shirt pocket and pushed it across the table to him.
He nodded silently and took it, then looked up at me before he unfolded it. “I have a price, this time.”
We locked gazes. He’d never asked anything of me before, and had reacted with boyish glee when I brought him some oddity I’d found on my travels. It had been an even exchange, over the years, but one we’d never verbalized or formalized. I’d known something was wrong with him, and this confirmed it.
“I might not be able to pay it.” I answered, feeling a chill of concern. I was vulnerable at the moment, and maybe that movement hadn’t been the shy Brownies. I let one hand fall off the table into my lap, inches from my holster. The other held the heavy mug of hot coffee. It would make a good distraction if thrown.
It’s not paranoid when they really are out to get you.
“I, um, hear you’re pretty connected at High Court.” He ducked his head like a shy little girl, and I watched this unexpected display with amazement.
“Might be. Depends.” I wanted to stay noncommittal, I had no idea what he knew, but I wanted him to talk more.
He rubbed the back of his neck with a meathook of a hand. I’d felt the power of it just a few minutes earlier. “Well, I was wondering. I mean, I know it’s a lot to ask. But…”
Now I just wanted him to spit it out instead of this slow searching for each word. “Yeah?”
“I’d like to get a pardon.” He blurted.
“Huh?” I blinked at him. “You want a what?”
“A pardon.” He repeated slowly, now looking up at me. I could see his eyes were full of unshed tears, reflecting the gray of his iris. The red rims told me he was seriously upset.
“You need a pardon?” I leaned back and took a swig of the coffee. I’d never heard of him doing anything that would run him afoul of the Hunt. There were very few laws Underhill, and justice was usually swift, and inexorable. Pardons were possible, but they came from the Huntsman, who might or might not listen to the King of High Court. Conrad had ahold of the wrong end of the stick.
“Not me. Someone… someone I care about.” And now I caught it. Just the faintest twitch of his eyes, toward the bed.
“Unh. This someone female? What’d she do?” I was watching the curtains with my peripheral vision, and there was a twitch, all right. I’d hit the mark, because the twitch was mirrored on Conrad’s fleshy face.
I didn’t look toward the bed. Wait and see what this was. Watching Conrad’s face, I could see his thoughts as his face fell, then brightened again.
“Yeah, Lom, is a girl. She’s good girl.” His voice was reverting to the accented English of his youth. “Yust needs a helping hand. Can you help?”
“I don’t know. I need to talk to her,” I wanted her out in plain sight. Angry females are more deadly than the males, Kipling wasn’t wrong about that. He’d not been wrong about many things, and I missed his cutting wit.
Conrad turned his head. “Mbwasho, coom forth.”
A lovely girl slid out from between the curtains, dressed in a simple shift, he
r feet bare. She had a sulky expression on her face, and she wagged her finger at Conrad as she walked toward us. Very tall, her regal bearing was borne out by her autocratic tone.
“You are too easy to sway!” She scolded him. “Now he has seen me, and can testify I am here.” She stopped and looked down her nose at me. “You do not look like a Duke.”
“You do not look like a fairy.” She was, in point of fact, lacking one very visible attribute shared by all Fae women that I had ever met. It wasn’t her dark skin and hair, or that she looked like she’d stepped out of a Masai thorn enkang into the room. It was the smooth shoulders and unbroken cloth over them. Mbwasho had no wings.
She sniffed and turned around, proving her wingless state. “I am no fairy. I am Masai, I have come to Conrad’s kraal to keep house for him.”
I looked at Conrad, who just shrugged. With the voluble young woman in sight, he seemed to have lost his ability for speech. Mbwasho, emboldened by my silence, rattled on. “This is a most marvelous place, but they say I must have a pardon to stay, and that I can never go home again.” She tossed her head. “I would rather stay here, and not share my husband, nor have to be emorata.”
I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but it was clear she was human, very young, and probably didn’t know where she really was.
“Conrad, what were you thinking?”
“I’m lonely.” He mumbled, looking at the table top, and my folded paper in his hand. I thought of what Bella would say.
“How in hell did you get her here?”
Mbwasho answered me that. “The little spirits of the earth, they carried me here while I was sleeping. I awakened and saw the stars streaming by over my head, and I thought I was dreaming, even though I could feel their little feet running,” She mimicked a rapid scissoring with her hands, “Under me, and I was moving like lying on running water. But I thought it must be a dream, so I closed my eyes, tight, tight, and then I opened them and it was all green, and a man stood there.”
“You kidnapped a child bride?” I asked him in astonishment. It seemed the least likely thing I could have thought of from Conrad, who had never been unhappy to have company, but just as glad to see me leave so he could go back to his life’s work.
Dragon Noir (Pixie for Hire Book 3) Page 4
